


Life's a Beach

by flightless_soren



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Beach Episode, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 08:31:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3350150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightless_soren/pseuds/flightless_soren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian hates water ( but not really )</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life's a Beach

**Author's Note:**

> Dorian makes an offhand comment about getting seasick if you get close to the waves at the Stormcoast. I always wondered how true that was. Also its valentine's day, here's some fluff!

A chorus of birds twitter outside, knocking snail shells open along the window still. Sunlight presses against the heavy drapes, shafting through the cracks to dapple patterns across the floor boards and unfortunate spots on the bed. He’s not quite sure what it is that awakens him. Be it the annoying birds, muffled sounds in the courtyard below or a patch of sunlight right in his damn eyes. His fingers search, not finding any of the blankets to cover his head with. Instead tries to roll his face more into the pillow in an act of defiance.  
  
There is no morning. It is still night time. He still has a good few hours to ignore the day.  
  
A tickling sensation on the back of his neck. He blearily focuses on this instead, on the heat against his back, almost uncomfortably so in the thick summer mugginess of the room. Its familiar and safe, and he doesn’t quite want break the realms of half sleep yet. This must be what entering the Fade is like. A sort of- half there, awareness. Only focusing a little on the real world sounds, until they gradually fade out into one long, droning, hum. The quiet sound tips him back into the cusp of sleep, and he looses feeling in parts of his body as he slowly sinks back down-  
  
“Dorian.”  
  
Blast, the groggy dream bubble starts to dissolve as he grows more aware of his surroundings. He can sense his lover’s arm tighten across his waist, battle worn hands smoothing across the ticklish dip in his hip bone before simply resting there. One of his legs, trapped snuggly between his thighs, tries to stretch and crack the ache there, but Dorian wraps his toes around his foot, a silent gesture to lie still. Not yet.  
  
“Come on.”  
  
Now its a piteous whine.  
  
Dorian grunts, voice husky with sleep, but refuses to open his eyes. Just five more minutes of basking in the glowing warmth behind him. Of not having to think, to welcome a new day of stabbing and killing things. Well. Its not like he doesn’t enjoy that part. Its the more. Sticky, _annoying_ parts, like remembering virtues and all that. The man curled happily against him gives a small chuckle, breath fanning across the back of the Tevinter’s neck, and lightly nuzzles against the closely cropped hairs at the back of his neck.  
  
“Amatus.”  
  
Not really a warning, he’s far too sleepy for that. Ignoring the endearment, Soren continues to explore the back of his neck with his lips, light kisses here, a slight nip there. Dorian gradually melts back into his chest, almost half dozing back off to the relaxing sensations, until his lover none to gently wakes him with a much more aggressive bite to his earlobe.  
  
“Its not my fault you were up drinking till Maker knows when,” Soren laughs breezily into his ear, as Dorian groans, caught between the stirs of desire and regretting his life choices. Honestly, its more of the later.  
  
Vaguely, he starts to recall the events of only a few hours earlier. Maker. Was it only a few hours ago?  
  
“I hope Bull is face down in an apple cart somewhere. Drowning in a pool of his own vomit,” Dorian hisses, starting to feel the building pressure behind one eye, the familiar, unwanted tap of a hangover starting to grow. Ah yes. Glorious. He’s pretty sure there’s a draft in the bedside drawer Soren tends to keep there for such headaches. He’ll get that. In. A second.  
  
This is why he wanted to stay asleep. To forget this.  
  
“I’m sure,” he starts to unwind his legs from Dorian’s and the sheets, not missing the disappointed sound of wanting the cosy warmth back. “Come on, we promised the others.”  
  
Promised? Promised wha- oh.  
  
“I believe you’ll find, _you_ promised the others. _I_ remember doing no such thing.”  
  
Soren gives the ring around Dorian’s neck a reminding flick.  
  
“Oh, so now you use that against me.”  
  
“Its generally what happens when you have a life partner, yes,” Soren says smugly, watching the tip of Dorian’s ear flush red. He gives it a quick kiss, muttering something a long the lines of, _cute_ , before Dorian elbows him, but not unkindly. “Oh, come now love. How can you say no to Cole? Just imagine, the disappointed droop in that sweet little face of his, clutching the edge of his hat and trying to shy his expression away because _someone_ doesn’t want to go to the beach because he made bad adult decisions and ended up hung over. He’s been looking forward to it all week I’ll have you know.”  
  
“Quite easily, I’ll have _you_ know. Its rather simple when you imagine him with red eyes and drooling mouth, fingers flourishing a quill, ready to sign your life away.”  
  
“He’s human, Dorian.”  
  
He knows he doesn’t really feel that way about the little spirit, he just enjoys playing it up for an audience.  
  
“Its because you can’t say no to that bloody dwarf and his stupid ideas.”  
  
“Well,” he has him there. He would probably say, how high, if Varric asked him to jump. There’s always been that small, still gnawing, guilt in him over what happened in the Fade. Soren considers for a moment.  
  
“There is that. But more . . . I am interested to see how burnt Solas will end up.”  
  
“I-hmm.”  
  
Yes. He has him.  


* * *

  
“I hate you.”  
  
“Uh huh.”  
  
“I could be wrapped up in a blanket, being served some strong tea and a large dose of affection. Instead I’m here. Listening to the screech of shit smelling seagulls and trapped under the blazing sun,” his hand covers his slightly bloodshot eyes, entire body cringing. The draft has helped. A little.  
  
“Maybe you’ll stop drinking now.”  
  
“If this was an elaborate rouse-”  
  
“Oh don’t be silly. Just look at their faces,” Soren looks across the shoreline. Most of Thedas is landlocked, and one would never assume to go to the Stormcoast for an outing. Yet here they are. Further up the coastline from their usual haunts, and on a nice day like today, if you looked hard enough, you could find terrain that can almost pass as sand.  
  
Waist deep in the water is Bull, appearing to be hangover free as he charges up and down the waterline, Sera and Cole hanging onto his horns for dear life, the former screeching in manic delight, demanding to go faster, while the other simply laughs. Blackwall is beside them, trying to defend himself each time Bull’s large wake creates a large splash.  
  
Varric keeps a close eye on them while he takes refuged in the wet sand, creating some kind of artwork on the ground. Solas, who has been alternating from flat on his back sunbathing on a rock, or propping himself up to curiously watch the others in the water, is now next to Varric, using the tip of his staff to help add to the sculpture.  
  
Meanwhile, the other girls are up the sandy bank, peacefully lying side by side and simply enjoying the sun.  
  
“I suppose it is rather nice,” Dorian loathes to admit his lover is right, although his self righteous smirk is quite charming. “And just where do you think we’re going?” he notices Soren is starting to led them both down the small slope.  
  
“To the water?”  
  
“No thanks. Water and I. .  don’t exactly mix.”  
  
“Oh come on, you don’t _actually_ get sea sick from just looking at water. That’s not a thing, is it?”  
  
“I have a very delicate stomach,” Dorian sniffs defensively, then starts backing away slightly as Soren gets that familiar gleam in his eyes that means trouble. It takes about five minutes. Of running up and down, dodging Soren’s grabbing hands, and both Cassandra and Vivienne have stopped chatting to watch on in great amusement.  
  
“Go for his feet!” the Seeker cheers out, “come on, I have seen you run faster when a wolf is chasing your arse!”  
  
Vivienne stays silent, as there’s a lot of bad blood between them, although she would rather dunk herself in the water than see a fellow mage lose the fight. With a slight flick of her wrist, a wisp of ice tickles Soren’s feet, and he trips, but not before making a wild grab for Dorian’s ankle.  
  
Somehow he manages to connect.  
  
They both land in an ungraceful heap, Soren and Cassandra giving triumphant yells, Soren’s greatly muffled by the sand, and he grabs the wriggling Tevinter and hoists him up under the arms before he can run away. Maybe its cheating. Considering the warriors much larger size and weight to Dorian's own. Normally Dorian finds the way Soren can easily drap himself all over his back like a huge coat endearing. Now its his own undoing.  
  
“Amatus! Please reconsider!” He desperately squeaks, face blanching as he gets dragged closer to the beaconing waves.  
  
Varric is absolutely beside himself, half sitting on the ground as he wheezes with laughter, and Dorian tries to throw him a threatening look which doesn’t quite make the cut. Solas has a polite hand covering his smirk, but it doesn’t hide the way his eyes crinkle up with mirth. Dorian tries to dig his heels in, but Soren easily counters by sweeping his feet up and carrying him in both arms instead.  
  
“Toss ‘em Boss, toss ‘em!” Bull roars, standing at the ready in the water. Sera cackles, while Cole tips his head curiously.  
  
“He’s happy.”  
  
“No, I most certainly am _not_!”  
  
“No he’s not,” Cole reconsiders, then crinkles his brows. “Wait. Can you get pleasure from pain?”  
  
“Oh, you most certainly can,” Bull chuckles, Soren joining in much to Dorian’s mortification.  
  
“He wants to be thrown in. Although he is a little worried about his hair.”  
  
“ _Cole_!”  
  
“Awww, well this takes the fun outa things,” Bull grumbles slightly, though Soren is slightly glad for confirmation that Dorian won’t throw up once he hits the water. Or kick him out of bed tonight.  
  
“Ready?” Soren grins, and Bull widens his stance.  
  
“No no no!”  
  
Instead of throwing, Soren runs at the water, Bull and Blackwall quickly moving out of the way as the warrior hits the water with a stupendous splash. They go under for a moment, Soren letting his legs fold and hit the sandy ground. Then they pop back up again, Dorian gasping and clinging onto his neck for dear life.  
  
“Now, how was that in anyway bad?”  
  
Dorian lets out a string of curses in his homeland tongue, some Soren doesn’t recognise as he hasn’t been taught that far, so instead silences him with a quick peck on the lips. He ignores the wolf whistle from the elf, and Bulls yell of _get a room;_ instead smiles at him fondly.  
  
“I’m getting you back for this, I’ll have you know,” Dorian grumbles, letting his body stretch out and awkwardly tread water, not letting go of Soren’s hands.  
  
“I look forward to you trying.”


End file.
